The Anxious Urban Sketcher / Part Two
/My second outing was harder than the first one.
Leaving the house was easier, but once I was out and half way down the road I felt overwhelmed by self-consciousness as an urge to draw something that caught my eye, took me by surprise.
Maybe, I got a little cocky in deciding not to take my comfort coffee with me. Note to self: coffee is always a good idea.
On the morning of this outing, I had given myself a little pep talk and felt good about it.
I realised that I had a kind of romantic fantasy about sketchbooks. Developing a strong sketchbook practice has been on my “wish list” since 2019 and been a constant niggle since. I want to be one of those artists who, over time, have a collection of filled sketchbooks with wonderful illustrations that people will weep over after I’m gone.
I think that might be Nancy talking (the name I give my anxiety) because when I re-read what I just wrote it fills me with dread and makes me feel the same way I do when I stand in front of a Monet: I feel inadequate and wonder why I should even bother trying because I will fail to create something anything close to that.
I’m setting myself up for disappointment and failure as I’m expecting my day of sketching to be gallery worthy. When in truth - as my previous outing told me - my sketchbook needs to be something different.
Unlike my experience of Monet, when I stand in front of a Robert Rauschenberg or a Jean-Michel Basquiat, or even a Dufy, I feel inspired to create. Their work gives me permission to try, even if it turns out bad. The sketchbooks of Basquiat are awesome! He collected words, simple drawings, just one small doodle per page. They might seem kind of random to someone who’s never seen his paintings, but an intriguing insight into his process if you have.
My sketchbooks aren’t going to be as beautiful as those of a professional urban sketcher because that’s not my ultimate goal. Maybe I can develop that skill has a hobby. [Yay, more sketchbook shopping!] but I must keep that aspiration separate to this exercise.
So, before I headed out on this second sketch session, I did what I failed to do last time: I set my intentions.
My intentions for on-location sketching:
It’s not about finding and sketching a pretty view. I’m making abstract works here. It’s more about sitting, waiting, feeling, acknowledging and expressing - or ‘logging’.
Collect shapes - What is the shape of the area? Start with that. Where are the roads? The pavements? Patches of green? Add building shapes. I’m particularly drawn to a side elevation, especially one with a chimney. I love how, with a row of buildings, one protrudes from the other creating a string of exciting shapes.
Write down what Nancy is saying. I like to include words and random thoughts in my paintings. Using these anxious thoughts in the work will not only give a “stream-of consciousness” snap-shot of my experience in the space, but also aid in reducing the power of the thoughts in the moment.
Move around the area. Layer new shapes on top of the previous ones. The same building from another direction.
Where am I feeling most anxious? Layer in some dark shades.Zoom in on some detail. What street furniture catches my eye?
Be conscious of my other senses. What can I hear? Overheard conversations or other sounds? Smells? Feelings? Tastes?
Take a photograph as a record.
Awesome! I love this plan. I felt good to go!
So, what went wrong?
I kind of ignored the plan. I kept getting excited about random chimneys. There are lot of gorgeous Georgian and Edwardian properties in my neighbourhood. Stopping in the middle of a residential street and drawing someone’s house is more conspicuous than doing so in a town centre. I kept imagining residents glaring at me saying “what is she doing?” Perfectly fine question. I would be asking the same if I caught someone drawing my house.
A quick sketch made on location
So I occasionally ducked into little nooks off the pavement and did a quick sketch. Slightly unsatisfying and got the heart pumping a bit too much.
I eventually returned home with a defeated feeling, rather than a sketchbook filled with intriguing shapes.
Also, I had remembered one part of my plan: take a photograph as a record. After I did that once, the temptation to take a quick photo and move on rather then stop and sketch was very strong.
I underestimated how loud NeNa (Negative Nancy) was.
I forgot to sit and wait.
I forgot to write down what Nancy was saying - even though I could have filled a whole book with her.
However, it wasn’t a total disaster.
I was more aware of the shapes that attracted me and could judge quite quickly what information I needed to take down that will inspire abstract pieces.
I found myself walking down a road I’d never visited before and did a few sketches. I felt the ignition of curiosity and got a little thrill from that.
The closest I came to achieving my objectives was when I walked across a small green square on the edge of town. I know the area well and often walk this way home.
The patchwork of green nestles between the bus station and busy bus stops, the brutalist library building, an elegant old theatre, an Art Deco style former pub and numerous attractive Georgian and Edwardian structures. Oh and a load of headstones propped up along a perimeter wall. It’s a slightly odd mixture now I come to think about it. It’s also where you’ll find gangs of squirrels and pigeons. There are benches under the shade of these amazing trees, where the bus drivers usually take a packed lunch and hang out, but that day it was quiet. I think it was that defeated feeling that urged me to sit for a bit. I’d never sat there before and doing so felt a little unnerving. I wasn’t waiting for a bus or eating my lunch. Do I need a reason to sit on a public bench? Why is Nancy being so weird about this? I manage to take out my sketchbook and collect a few shapes, but I moved on quicker than I should have, making a mental note to return next time.
Back in the safety of my studio, with time to reflect on the work done, I use the photographs taken as reference to sketch out some shapes. I then layer them onto sketches I made on location and end up with something akin to what I had in mind. I start to feel better about it all.
I was worried that my negative outing would make a third outing super difficult or even unlikely.
I made some quick pieces based on those sketches; playing with the new materials and techniques I’ve been experimenting with over the past year. [More on that next time].
I wasn’t too concerned with composition; I enjoyed the mark-making and the layering of veils of colour. As a result this piece is a little off balance and would benefit from some editing, but I like where it’s going.
Oil paint transfer drawing, watercolour paint on screenprinting mesh 16x16 inches
Creating art is a personal thing. We should be inspired by others, but we shouldn’t hold those examples as a high bar to reach or set it as a standard to match. As Theodore Roosevelt once said, "comparison is the thief of joy." We should do our own thing and not worry about what others are doing.
This is easily said, but one of the hardest skills to put into practise.